


Am I so Hard to Love?

by HermesWing



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Divergence, M/M, Magic is a dick, Possible Spoilers, Timeline What Timeline, but it really likes Quentin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermesWing/pseuds/HermesWing
Summary: Quentin was getting real sick of magic fucking with him. Because of course the thing he’d loved his whole life would fuck with him the moment it became real.Soulmate magic. Seriously?This is set somewhere in the beginning of the first season, but it's also super not timeline compliant. Oops?Rating is liable to change.





	1. Who thought this was a good idea?

Quentin was getting real sick of magic fucking with him. Because of course the thing he’d loved his whole life would fuck with him the moment it became real. First the Beast, then the whole trapped in a hell of his own making (fuck you very much Jules), and now this. What is this you say? Well, I’m glad you asked. 

Soulmate magic.

See, it all started when Eliot overheard some fourth years talking about a special spell that used special magic and gave the castors a different kind of special magic in return. Naturally he told Margo, who told Alice, who of course thought it might help with finding Charlie and told Quentin, who’s mind is apparently a slut for Penny, and. You know. I feel like you get the picture.

Anyway, they found the spell and decided, why not? Let’s just use it and see where it takes us. What’s the worst that could happen?

And this, boys and girls, is why we research the shit out of our archaic spells before we use them. 

“Does anyone else feel like this was a really bad idea to do before reading all the warnings?” Quentin eyed the bowl of highly suspect rainbow goo glowing between them. Was the goo supposed to coo at them?

Eliot cooed right back to the goo because of course he would, “Don’t be such a Bones, Que. Let your Kirk flag fly.”

“I can’t believe you just made that reference. Margo, can you believe he just made that reference? I thought I was the- Holy fuck! Is it vibrating? Is it supposed to be vibrating right now?”

It’s possible that the stress of the situation was making Quentin lose his shit. In his defense, his default setting was somewhere between oncoming panic and absolutely no chill, so he’d appreciate it if you’d stop judging him.

Alice, ever the voice of reason, gently pulled him back down (when had he stood up?) and shushed him. “Quentin, the mixture in the bowl is supposed to bond with us and slowly begin to take a real form. Right now, it’s learning. About us, our magic, the relationships we have with each other. And when it’s done it’s supposed to touch us and gift us with ‘Knowledge unimaginable.’” 

The goo was definitely beginning to take shape now. Little fuzzy (gooey?) ears were beginning to form on it, and it had started purring. 

“This might be the key, Que. To finding Charlie, or at least learning what happened to him.” She made sure she had his full attention for the next part, “To learning how to defeat the Beast. Isn’t that worth the risk?”

Everyone was looking at him with varying degrees of concern and worry (or irritation if their name was Penny. The dick). There wasn’t really any way to stop the spell, they were waaaaaay too far in, but the state of his mind would affect his magic, which in turn affects the end results. God, how had they convinced him this was a good idea?

Oh, right. They had Eliot talk to him. Damn his friend crush.

Speaking of…

Quentin looked over at said friend only to realize he was on the receiving end of the single most intense stare he’d ever had the pleasure of being subjected to. It does something to a person, having that much intent directed at them. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hide or bask in it. 

Staring back at Eliot, he nodded once. He could do this. He could calm himself down and focus on keeping his magic positive (ha) and stable (also ha). He just had to close his eyes and center himself. Move past the panic. Trust that Eliot would support him.

Deep breath in, two, three, four. 

Deep breath out, two, three, four.

Quentin opened his eyes and refocused on the spell. 

The goo looked to be nearing a final shape; small and unmistakably feline, with two tails and giant ears. It was no longer a glaring rainbow, but more an iridescent white that seems to be constantly shifting. Slowly, the goo began to change into fur, and the small creature stood up. 

There was a collective intake of breath as the now furry creature grew to the size of a small cat before finally seeming to solidify. Fully formed, but eyes not yet open. The purring gradually got louder as it turned itself in a circle. The purring came to an abrupt stop as it stilled, facing Quentin. 

Then opened its eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, I've finally done it. My first fic on ao3. May it not be my last.
> 
> I am not a very constant writer, but will try to update this every month.


	2. What are you Quentin Coldwater?

One day, Quentin was going to figure out why magic liked screwing with him so much.

Ethereal green eyes stared straight through Quentin’s soul. No one willing to speak or move as the creature sized him up, this was the moment of truth after all. (Seriously though, why was it always him?) The creature cocked its head to the right, before going squinty eyed and purring once more. Still purring it walked towards him. The room vibrated with the sound.

Something that small and cute should not be able to make a mostly grown man question every life decision he’d ever made that lead him to this point in his life. It was ridiculous. It was absurd. It was crawling into his lap and gazing at him like he was supposed to pet it.

Quentin blinked.

"Awe, look, Que. It likes you,” Eliot’s drawl broke the silence, and just like that everyone else began to speak.

“Are you sure we did this right?”

“You know, when I heard the ‘touch us’ part, I thought it meant more of a quick one-two.”

“Like, really sure we did this right?”

“Maybe his freak out made it want to comfort him…?”

The creature’s ears were beginning to flick in annoyance, happy cat face starting to look more like grumpy cat face. Not wanting the all-powerful kitten to murder him or his friends, Quentin started to pet it. He’d barely touched its head when everything went warm and white.

Power surge through him like a live wire, rushing through every cell in his body and whiting out his mind. He was tingling all the way to his bones. Everything was magic, and bright, and good. 

_What are you Quentin Coldwater? What makes you special? Show me._

The echoing voice reminded him of Mew (you know, the adorable pink Pokémon?) in that it was both ancient and childlike. It simultaneously made him feel safe and on edge. So many contradictions, and he would really like things to be simple again. Like learning magic as a kid, or reading about Fillory was.

_Who makes you better? Who makes you stronger?_

Alice, Margo, Penny… Eliot. They all help him be better, get stronger. They all bring him back when he drifts. Make him smile when he’s sad. Convince him to try when he wants to give in. Hold him together every time he starts to fall apart. 

_Who tears you apart? Who breaks you down?_

Thoughts and memories of Julia flutter across his mind. Nothing really sticking, just flashes. Their laughter when they were kids, sunlight in her hair while they pretended to be in Fillory. Her gradual changes as they grew. Less smiles, less magic, more boys. That one rush of warmth as they learned that magic was real. 

The warmth is quickly chased away by the cold betrayal of the mind prison Julia trapped him in. By her laughter while he was desperately trying to prove that none of it was real. How could she have done that to him? 

The feeling of strange magic rushing through him chasing the cold away, the sound of purring easing him down to his very core. 

_Hush now, Quentin, she’s not for you. Those wounds need not stay._

The purring feeling changed to a low hum. Like the creature was contemplating (this was the creature’s doing, right?) what to do with him now. 

_It’s a wonder that you could bond so deeply with another without the aid of magic. So few souls have such capacity to love._

Quentin tried to make an inquisitive noise, he’s not sure if he succeeded, but the creature answered regardless.

_Normal beings lack the resonance to bind their souls to another based solely in their love for that other. It’s a rare and truly precious gift. Magic would be nothing if not for such love._

Magic comes from pain. Everyone knew that. He knew. He was so much stronger after he learned that his father was sick...

_It wasn’t always so. But tell me Quentin, what about your father being sick gives you pain?_

Well, he didn’t want to lose his dad, he loved- Oh. Yeah, he was seeing the creature’s point now. He briefly wondered if the creature had a name, or if he should name it. Surely everything deserves a name.

More warmth flooded him.

_Silly human child, of course I have a name. Did you not say it many times to summon me here?_

Huh. What had the spell been called? Caelestis Precepio? What did that mean again? Alice definitely told him. Fuck, he really needed to study Latin more. Way too many spells were Latin based for him to be this bad at it.

The creature giggled. It was weird.

_I am Caelestis._

Pretty…

_I’m glad you think so. Be at ease, magician, I will help you find a proper other half. Leave everything to me._

The last thing Quentin remembered was finally feeling whole, before everything went black.

 

Quentin woke up in increments. Light purring to his right filled him with ease. There was a lazy breeze playing though his hair, and sunlight warm on his cheek. He felt warm, content. God, how long had it been since he had woken up feeling half so good? You know, who really cared; the point was he felt amazing now. A smiled slid across his lips as he nuzzled back into his pillow. His pillow hummed and nuzzled back. Such a nice pillow.

Wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said that I would be updating this every month, but turns out you aren't really supposed to type after having hand surgery. I'll try and make it up to y'all when I finally am able to get this shit written.
> 
> Love <3


	3. Tell Me Eliot Waugh...

“That was unexpected.”

Eliot was starting to see Quentin’s point on the whole ‘read the warnings first’ thing, because this was so not what was supposed to happen. Then again, maybe it was. Archaic Latin was always so vague. And, you know, now that he’s thinking about it, very rarely does it come with warnings. Some long dead wizard no doubt getting his jollies from idiot magicians in training. 

Good gods, did he need a drink.

Or seven.

“So, and I’m just wondering, anyone think we should try to do something? Perhaps read those warnings our darling little Que was going on about before we ignored and potentially fucked him for good?” The raven drawled, leveling the others with a sardonic smile.

Margo and Penny gave him varying degrees of unimpressed bitch face (Margo better start stepping up her game, the moody traveler was well on his way to surpassing her), while Alice visibly bristled. Oh Alice, always taking being wrong waaaaay too hard. 

Concerned blue eyes met unimpressed green, “There was nothing to suggest anything truly bad happening. And if we had actually cast wrong nothing at all would have happened. It was written so that it could be cast the right way or not at all.” Alice gave a quick glance to the spell book before continuing, “But… There is a chance we misunderstood.”

Penny snorted, “Of fucking course.”

“Go on, princess, tell us what we don’t understand.”

Ah, that delightful little glare never does get old. Well, perhaps one day, but Eliot wasn’t inclined to believe so. There’s just something unfailingly satisfying about knowing when you’ve gotten under another person’s skin.

“As I was saying,” she bit out, “We might have misunderstood what ‘knowledge unimaginable’ meant.” She glanced back at the book in her lap, “ _Caelestis Precepio_ literally means ‘heavenly knowledge,’ right?” Nods all around. “And the spell needs to learn about us- our magic, our relationships, our mentalities- to best grant us that knowledge. So… it’s safe to say the knowledge it’s gifting us with is… intimate.” 

Eliot rolled his eyes at her obvious discomfort, “Out with it, princess.” 

“Ithinkthismightbesoulmatemagic!”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Alice huffed, glaring at the older magician once more, “I said, I think it might be soulmate magic.” 

Margo and Penny groaned, Eliot simply raised an eyebrow. 

Oh fate, thou arte a cunning wench.

“Margo, darling, next time we hear about a spell that sounds too good to be true, let’s go ahead and assume it is.” The lovely Latina ‘hmmed’ in agreement.

Penny growled. “No. You know what, no. I did not sign up for my soul tied to one of your sorry asses. I’m out,” he moved to leave, only to be stopped by a tight grip on his wrist, and a vicious jerk down. “Hey!”

Margo, queen that she is, clearly decided enough was enough, “Oh no, there is no abandoning ship with old archaic magic. You’re in this now, so suck it up and deal.” With one last pointed looked, she removed her hand from the traveler’s wrist. “Now then. Alice, you said ‘might,’ that means there’s a chance you’re wrong,” the blonde nodded, “Then you and I will look over that spell book until we’re sure.” Alice nodded once more. 

“Penny, since you’ve been blessed with the unique talent of being able to slip into Quentin’s head, you’ll go ahead and make sure that creepy little cat isn’t hurting our darling little Que’s already damaged mind.” Penny growled again, entering a short battle of wills, before giving one sharp nod. Margo practically purred her victorious, “Good.” 

Turning to Eliot, she smiled, “Darling, you’re in charge of monitoring Que for physical signs of distress,” her smile grew knowing, “You watch him enough to notice any small changes.” The raven narrowed his eyes at her, speaking of cunning wenches…

Orders given, she primly scooched over to Alice, barely a breath between them. Something was there, Eliot was just waiting for Margo to admit it. Sighing, he turned his attention back to Quentin. 

Said magician looked more at peace than the raven could remember seeing him. He rested forehead to forehead with the cat, shoulders held no tension, eyes closed, lashes fluttering delicately across his cheek, mouth relaxed (but Eliot could tell is was closer to a smile than a frown), his hair was gently moving in some magical breeze, the cat’s magic casting a luminous glow around them both… Quentin looked other worldly. Beautiful.

When, he wondered, had he fallen so in love?

“I can’t get in.” 

Penny’s statement startled Eliot from his thoughts. There was a moment of silence until:

“Excuse me, I thought I just heard you say you couldn’t get into Que’s head. But that couldn’t possibly be right, because you can always get into Que’s head.” Eliot heard the threat in his own voice. Whoops.

Before Penny could snarl back, the light from Quentin and the cat grew blinding. Then everything got hazy.

“Fuck-!”

“-How did that-?”

“-This means-!”

“-Why did they insist upon-?!”

“-Eliot!”

 

_Tell me, Eliot Waugh, what gives you worth?_

Eliot felt singularly unimpressed by the show of “power” the magic was giving with the creepy mind voice. _Um, excuse you? I give me worth, obviously_. The silence that followed made the raven certain that if magic mind voices could raise their eyebrows, this one would have.

_Well_ , the voice echoed, clearly taken aback, _I certainly wasn’t expecting you_. He could feel a delicate paw press against his hand before something akin to wind swept through his mind, _Ah, so that is what you are. I should have known the sweet one would be drawn to you._

Eliot wasn’t sure If his eyes were open or not, but they narrowed at that regardless. He was getting sick of powerful magics fucking with him and his. First the friggin’ beast, then that whole hedge bitch revenge bullshit, and now this archaic knowledge spell that asked more questions than it answered (especially given that it had answered none). 

_Fret not, little king, I’ll give you knowledge yet_ , it sounded almost fond, _First, however, I must know your worth. Now, show me._

The magician couldn’t have stopped the voice if he tried, the wind sensation flooded his system and electricity crackled beneath his skin. Words lost meaning as everything became a warm, tingling envelope of pure sensation.

In what felt like an eternity, but was likely no more than a few moments, the cat went through everything. His memories, thoughts, traumas, triumphs. It learned his vices and virtues, what gave him resolve, and why. The magic tore through every locked door and reinforced wall he’d ever made, exposing his scars and secrets like never before. 

_So much hurt, little king. So much pain._ The tenderness of the voice made Eliot’s eyes water. _But worth you do have. The sweet one will be just as good for you, as you will be for him._ That sensation of wind swept through his mind once more, leaving the strangest feeling of being kissed on the forehead behind. 

Slowly, Eliot regained control of his body. He tried to open his eyes, and blinked a few times at the sudden light. As his vision cleared he came face to face with big ethereal eyes. They looked stern, like they wanted him to understand something important.

_Don’t forget to protect him….._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... It's been a while.
> 
> I would first like to apologize to everyone who was waiting, and waiting for this chapter. Life is a bitch and last year was rough. 
> 
> That said, I do plan to keep to my once a month goal now that I've finally started up again. I'll probs be posting each new chapter the last week of every month.
> 
> Thank you, to everyone still willing to read this!


	4. How Did We Even Get Here?

The cat winced its eyes shut, purring as it nuzzled against Eliot’s cheek, pleasure and approval clear in the motion. Before Eliot had a chance to react, the cat jumped elegantly from his lap directly onto a startled looking Margo. Alice immediately began to fret, all her attention on the spell’s new target.

Well, then.

The raven shook his head, trying to figure out what the actual fuck had just happened. He had just had his brain thought-fucked by an old as dirt spell that decided it wanted to be a cat. The cat was cute, then it was a threat, it went back to being cute (but so rude), and now it was off terrorizing his beautiful Bambi. It had called him ‘little king.’ The fuck does that even mean? Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, that whole conversation was less than clear. _‘Sweet one’ must be Quentin…_

Viridian eyes snapped to where the brunette had fallen after the cat had accosted him. He didn’t seem to be in pain, or distress of any kind. Actually, if Eliot didn’t know any better he would have thought Quentin was just sleeping. Panic lanced through him. This wasn’t the first time he had seen Que in a seemingly harmless sleep. 

Eyes still glued to Quentin, Eliot addressed the traveler, “Penny, have you been able to get in Que’s head since the cat stopped touching him?” Penny jerked his head towards him, clearly startled. Eliot raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, “Well?”

The startled expression melted into one of clear displeasure, usual glare in place. They really never did get along. Fuck, if it weren’t Penny’s strangely intimate relationship with Quentin (no, Eliot’s not jealous _or_ bitter, fuck you very much), they would never even tolerate being in the room. 

“It’s not that I can’t get in, it’s that I get lost when I’m there,” Penny grumbled. “His head isn’t the easy to read, fucked up, annoying nerd space it was before. There’s some kind of… haze? Fog? Fuck. I don’t know. Shielding maybe? Whatever, the point is that I can get in, but I can’t feel any specifics like normal.” Obsidian eyes closed in concentration, “He doesn’t feel lost, trapped, or damaged…. Almost hidden, actually.” 

Eliot resisted the urge to growl, it was undignified. Seriously though, what was the point of keeping the traveler if he can’t even make sure Que was okay? Why should they have to deal with his moody ass when he can’t do the one thing he was good for? Why did Eliot feel so irrationally jealous all of a sudden?

The raven finally turned to look at Penny, narrowing his eyes when he realized he was on the receiving end of an almost accusing gaze. “Can I help you?”

“I was just thinking, the haze or whatever, it feels a lot like you,” the traveler’s tone matched his gaze. 

Their conversation must have caught Alice’s interests, because before Eliot had a chance to respond the blonde butted in with, “You’re who the spell chose as Quentin’s soulmate. That’s what it’s doing, choosing the person best suited for each of us, based on whatever it does when it touches us, and binding us to that person.” 

Magic. Tormenting poor unsuspecting magicians with the promise of everything they want, but only at a price. Eternally bound to the object of your desire, with no way of knowing if they actually want you back. Because it’s not magic if it’s not fucking with you.

Eliot let out a single, longsuffering sigh, before he looked back to his darling Que, and thought about everything that just happened. Going over every word the spell said to him, as well as what Penny had just said. _Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw. I’m archaic Latinly bound to a probably heterosexual sweet heart who will likely have a panic attack when he learns what happened. Splendid._

Still looking at his newly bound soulmate, Eliot addressed the other two, “Give the princess a prize, I do believe she got it right.” He laughed, a little hysterically, “It even told me not to forget to protect him.” He glanced back to Alice, “Think it meant from myself?”

Penny scoffed, while the blonde gave him a sour look, clearly torn between disapproval and worry.

Just as Eliot was about to laugh it off, Margo collapsed onto Alice. There was no chance to react before the fuzzy little spell climbed smoothly onto the other girl’s lap, no doubt snooping through all her little secrets to decide who to bind her to. Why did they think it was a good idea to do an old magic spell before they read the labels?

Tilting his head, Eliot regarded Margo’s prone form, _Out, just like Quentin. Why aren’t I magically unconscious?_

As if hearing his thoughts (quite possibly actually hearing his thoughts, specialty and all) Penny asked, “How come you aren’t out like a wasted light?”

“Maybe I’m just a better magician than the rest of you,” he snipped back. 

“More like you’re more used to having to function while fucked up.”

Eliot gave the traveler a sardonic smile, “If that’s the case, I won’t be the only one awake after the spell binds you to someone, now will I?” Penny sneered and looked away, an awkward and loaded silence fell upon them. 

The raven rolled his eyes at the pouting traveler, _And here I thought_ I _was supposed to be the dramatic one._ Deciding that it was so not his problem, the telekinetic moved closer to the still unconscious Quentin. His face softened as he took in the most relaxed expression he’d ever seen on his little Que’s face. 

With gentle fingers, he brushed some hair off one perfect cheek, reveling in the contact. Unable to help himself (obviously, the new bond’s fault, shut up), Eliot cupped that same perfect cheek and stroked his thumb over the bone, lips curling in a smile when the brunette leaned into it. It was easy to understand why the spell had called Que ‘sweet one,’ especially when he was asleep like this. Not a sweeter soul in existence, Eliot was sure.

Distracted as he was by the younger magician, you could understand why the raven almost didn’t notice the spell releasing Alice and moving on to a vocally panicking Penny. Sadly, loud exclamations of ‘Awh hell nah,’ and amusingly girlish screams (Yeah, no way was he going to live that down), are just too noisy to ignore.

Glancing away from his new soulmate, Eliot turned just in time to see the spell very calmly walking towards Penny, who looked to be trying to become one with the wall. Eliot was like, 1000% certain the smug little smirk on the cat’s face was not his imagination. Fucking archaic Latin. 

Another glance, this time towards Alice, showed him that, just like Quentin and Margo, the blonde remained unconscious. Curious, and curiouser… One last look to Penny showed the traveler in the spell’s trance, no doubt throwing a fit.

Viridian eyes trailed back to the lovely, lovely face of a sleeping Que. Seriously, people could write sonnets about how angelic his face was. Shockingly beautiful when not riddled with constant anxiety. Would that he could rid Quentin of all that anxiety when awake.

_Bet that hedge bitch didn’t even care._ Eliot’s expression grew dark at the thought, _No doubt used his depression and anxiety to ensure that Quentin always needed her._ The telekinetic’s thoughts only grew darker from there. Five minutes in a room with the bitch, he was sure that’s all it’d take before she’d never dare go near his little Que again. 

_You really don’t like her, do you?_

Eliot whipped around so fast, he was sure he’d be feeling the whiplash in the morning. The spell was barely a foot away, regarding him with amused ethereal eyes. “It’s not polite to sneak up on people, you know.”

If possible, those eyes grew more amused, _Forgive me, Little King, it’s been centuries since I was last summoned to this world. You mortals are always so much more skittish than those in the other realms. I’ve much to relearn._

“What, not done binding unsuspecting magicians’ souls together?”

_I was under the impression that’s what you lot called me here for. Don’t tell me you didn’t read all the way through before you cast the spell?_

Eliot glared, the cat laughed. 

_Fret not, I’ll only stay long enough to ensure I have made the right choices,_ the spell moved until it sat right next to Quentin’s face, nuzzling into the cheek not in Eliot’s hand. _I’m rarely wrong, but it’s always better to be sure._

“He’s your favorite, isn’t he?”

The spell looked up at him, face resting against Quentin’s cheek, a considering look in its eyes. _He’s a rarity in this day and age. There were few even when those like him were ‘common.’ He’s special._

Eliot couldn’t help his half smile, “Yeah, he is.” Sighing, the raven looked around at all his unconscious friends. “How long are they gonna be out?”

_Oh, many hours yet, I’m sure. You, Little King, are a rarity yourself._

“Guess that means I have to get them all to bed myself then. How annoying.”

The spell hmmed in mild agreement, while Eliot rose to his feet in one fluid movement. _Thank Christ I’m a telekinetic._ Taking a deep breath he concentrated on gently lifting everyone from the floor (okay, so he knocked Penny into the wall a little, could you really blame him?). Another deep breath and he had them pulled close together.

Making sure not to lose his concentration he turned to where Que was floating (magic cat now curled up against his chest, because of course it was). With sure movements, Eliot lowered the brunette into his arms (cat and all), feeling calmer now that he had him pressed to his chest.

He started towards the door, line of bodies floating behind him. As an afterthought, he used his telekinesis to clean the room and gather the books. The princess would be so proud. 

Under that cat’s instructions (read: demands), Eliot put Penny on the couch (yeah, he didn’t want to know), Margo and Alice in a bed together, and brought Quentin (and the cat) to his room. 

“Why is this important, again?” Eliot asked after gently laying Que in his bed. A lingering last look and he started his nightly ritual for bed.

_The bond needs time to settle. It’s still new, and hasn’t had a chance to truly establish itself._

“Okay, so why is it okay for Penny to be on the couch?”

_Penny hasn’t made contact with either of his soulmates yet._

Eliot paused in his getting ready for bed, “I’m sorry, soulmates? As in plural? How is that a thing?”

_Where does it say you can only have one soulmate?_

Two sets of green regarded each other for a moment, “Good point.” Eliot continued his ritual.

_Do you always fuss so much before you sleep?_

“One can’t skimp on skin care if they expect to be the envy of all.”

His response was met with exasperated silence. Smiling as he finished up, Eliot turned off the lights and crawled into bed. Far too tired to care that the spell was also in his bed, Eliot curled around Quentin and let himself fall into an amazingly restful sleep. 

Maybe Que wouldn’t even freak out in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this took me more than a month, I'm sorry. I did make it the longest chapter yet. So that's something at least. ^^;
> 
> Special thanks to coldfiredragon for helping me get out of the corner I wrote myself into. Seriously, you're the best.


End file.
